Never As Good As The First Time
In the beginning, Cain slew his brother Abel and destroyed his ability to think and reason forever preventing him from being all that he was meant to be.
Many centuries later, coCaine slew the brothers' Ability and destroyed their thinking and reasoning forever preventing them from being all they were meant to be...
Part I: Sinking Sand
The room was dark and I was on my hands and knees, naked, digging at the floorboards with my bare hands. The lone thought in my mind was finding a rock that maybe someone had hidden in the little crevice where the floorboard and the floor met. I couldn't get it out of my head that there could be a little piece of crack hidden there. I knew that it had once been a crack house before I had moved in and there had to have been a lot of ballers and shot callers in and out of here night and day for years. They could have hidden some. Some long-neglected corner of my mind knew that I was being ridiculous and that I wouldn't find anything. A long- forgotten, far away voice that sounded like mine was telling me to stop, to get up off my hands and knees, but that driving, all- consuming need to have another blast, to have "Scotty beam me up" just one more time was keeping me captive, naked on my knees.
I raked my hand across the crevice one last time and felt something sharp slice across my fingers. I jerked my hand away and peered at it in the darkness, trying to assess the damage. The pain was immediate and intense; I could feel more than see the blood starting to trickle down my fingers from the open gash across the tips. I had been right about one thing, this had once been a hidingplace for crack. I had just found the still sharp razor blades embedded in the crevices that had once protected it.
I sat there on the floor for a long time, still naked and bleeding, not really caring if the bleeding stopped or not. In fact an idea was forming in my head that bleeding to death wouldn't be such a bad idea. I could get a razor blade from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and open another gash on my wrists and let the blood from my fingertips mingle with the blood from my wrists and together they might drown the life out of me. But that nagging little voice would not be stilled. That voice of reason that had once been mine. And for about the 100th time it was asking me what was I doing here? What in Hell had brought me to this? I started to cry. Dear Jesus where are you? Help me Oh God, please help me out of this pit I've dug for myself!
But I was down so deep, I wasn't sure that even Jesus could reach me.